Empire Day on Jakku
by RC-5280
Summary: Inspired by July 4th celebrations. I don't think it is canon that the Battle of Jakku happened on Empire Day, but I went with it and this is the result. It takes a rather dark turn towards the end, so you have been warned.


There's something primally satisfying about gnawing on bones. I suppose it's just an animal part of our human DNA, but that's how me and my stormtrooper buddies felt as we were gnawing on celebratory nerf ribs on our Empire's twenty-fourth birthday.

We were on base way out in—get this—Jakku. The middle of galactic nowhere, if you asked any of us. It should have been the last thing on the Empire's mind, especially since the second Death Star got vaporized. The number of credits that thing must have cost, not to mention its predecessor…. It's a staggering loss when you really stop and think about it. I'm not getting paid enough for Imperial credits to be wasted like that. To think my family pays taxes for it all to go 'poof' in a couple of microseconds.

But no. There we were, celebrating Empire Day with our comrades-in-arms on some kriffing _desert_ in the middle of the Outer Rim. Instead of with our wives and families. They can't give us a day off, can they?

I'm beginning to hate Empire Day.

Not the Empire itself. Oh, jeez. If the ISB heard me say _that,_ I'd be dead faster than you could bat an eye. No, I just hate the holiday.

And that mostly because it marks the fifth year I've had to stay way out here in the middle of Force-forsaken nowhere. Why _did_ we have a base out here, though?

Not to mention that awful speech the Emperor gave all those years ago. Who exactly cares about the Jedi rebellion anymore? They've all been dead for two decades. Nobody cares that Papa Palps over there almost died twenty years ago. It's _in the past._ We get it, he's some kind of super guy for surviving five Jedi at once. Literally _no one_ I know enjoys listening to that speech. Even the kriffing ISB agent that makes us watch it here in the mess hall every Empire Day, even now that the man is dead.

Anyway we were all sitting there, gnawing on our special plates of ribs. Very pleased with ourselves, especially since we weren't eating the normal slip they served us.

Then the lights dimmed to red, and klaxons blared.

I heard an officer mumble something about a New Republic invasion, and I ran with everyone else to go grab my E-11 and my bucket.

Did I mention how much I hate Empire Day? I could feel the heat coursing through my veins, and I'm not sure if it's because of the attack that's drawing me away from my plate of nerf ribs, or if it's because I might die here in the middle of nowhere.

Oh, blast it. I've cursed myself now. I'm going to die in this kriffing battle, aren't I? That's just what I need. To have my wife and kids find out I got shot by New Republic guns in the middle of nowhere.

Nobody respects the Empire since we lost our Emperor. But the New Republic isn't getting anywhere yet. They've still got their military, sure, but they haven't got any way to show the population what's right or wrong. No codified laws or even a Constitution.

When the base doors open, the sun is more blasted hot than the end of my E-11 after I've fired it too many times. Why couldn't the Rebel scum have given us our last stand on forested Takodana, or even frozen Orto Plutonia? It always has to be the hot desert sun and sand, doesn't it?

I'm starting to hate the Rebels about as much as I hate Empire Day.

I saw a familiar wedge shape come crashing down from the skies above, our last Super Star Destroyer. The fleet's done for. Everything is already lost.

But I might have been able to fight my way back to my wife and kids on Vardos. I hadn't seen or talked to them since I was reassigned from the first Death Star five years ago. Dodged a real bullet there.

I was sure they were safe, since Vardos was so staunchly Imperial, despite the creeping doubt in my gut.

I saw a lambda shuttle not fifty meters away, and I bolted for it. I hoped it was empty, so I didn't have to shoot anybody. I'd had a bad enough day already. I didn't need to know I was denying someone else what I was trying so desperately to get for myself.

The shuttle lifted off almost as soon as I started running towards it.

I swore violently to myself for several long seconds. Then I looked to see if anyone had noticed my attempt at desertion.

No one was looking my direction.

Maybe I could steal a Rebel ship. I was sure they would let one of their own leave the battle.

My eyes darted across the debris-filled, sandy wasteland, landing on an almond-like GR75 transport a hundred yards from my bunker door.

It, too, lifted off as soon as I looked at it. I was growing desperate and hopeless, a deadly combination. So I ran. As fast and hard as I could, right into the center of our battle line. I ran right through our battle line, and heard several voices yell at me to "get back here, trooper."

I didn't care anymore. I kept running, and running, until I found myself next to a T-65B X-wing. It would have to do.

I ran up the ladder and into the pilot's seat, strapping myself in, when blasterfire rocked me from both directions. The Rebels were shooting me, and so were my own people. Stormtroopers were trying to execute me for deserting.

It was then I knew I was a dead man. Everyone was my enemy, and I had no chance at survival. So I hit a button on the X-wing's control panel, and took a nosedive towards the Rebel lines. I charged the nearest thing that moved, and blasted the Rodian's body at least a dozen times. The end of my blaster sizzled, hot as the Jakku sun.

I was going down with as many Rebels as I could take out.

I shoved the swiss-cheeselike corpse aside, and sprayed blasterfire as far and wide as I possibly could. I didn't care if it hit anything. I had a wife and kids who were probably wondering if I was dead, and they would probably never know for certain. That was all I could think about, how I had never been there as a father, and how I so regretted my posting way out on Jakku, in the galactic junkyard. It's funny how the mind focuses so close to death. I knew I would never see my loved ones again, and that made me a dangerous animal.

The X-wing blew up behind me, just as I had told it to. I heard screams of pain in the general area of the explosion.

I didn't care anymore, and that made me dangerous. A man with nothing left to lose, and all the hate he could muster, was something deadly. And I knew it.

Every Rebel I killed seemed surprised at my ferocity. I even pulled my standard-issue vibroblade and started pummeling them with it. I even sliced the necks of a few stormtroopers.

I killed everything that got close to me, because I had accepted death as normal. When mine finally caught up, I spread my arms and embraced it.

My armor was already riddled with scorch marks and a few blast holes, but somehow, I had survived this far.

My painful death started with a blast to the front. It ripped a hole through my weakened chestplate, scorching the flesh inside. I crumpled, ready to die. Then came the grenade. Someone had smartly thought to stop me with a thermal detonator.

I smiled underneath my shredded helmet, lenses completely blasted away. Finally, someone had the sense to take me out with explosives. The last thing I remember was an intense, scorching heat, and then…

I was flying. Really flying through the scorching desert air.

I was the happiest I had ever been in that longest moment of my life, because I saw my wife and kids again. They were dead, too, and I was soaring through the air to greet them.

My arms were still wide open in a welcoming embrace when I fell back to the sandy earth below.

I loved Empire Day and the Rebellion as much as I loved my wife and kids. I was the happiest man in the entire Galaxy the moment I faded into the Cosmic Force. And nothing can take that moment away from me, now that I'm dead.

I am finally free, to fly across the skies of Jakku forever.


End file.
